


Pieces of You

by softforklave, sunshineklaus



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29564769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softforklave/pseuds/softforklave, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineklaus/pseuds/sunshineklaus
Summary: “My tour is almost over,” Dave says suddenly, breaking the silence. As if Klaus could ever forget that, as if it is not the only thing on his mind. He looks at Klaus with bright eyes and a teasing smile. “And I have been thinking about how we are going to have to buy you an entire wardrobe when we get home.”Klaus throws his head back, laughing, “Really? That’s what you’ve been thinking about? Of all the challenges of taking your time traveling boyfriend home with you, that is the thing you’ve been worrying about?”
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Comments: 32
Kudos: 36
Collections: EnKlave Fest 2021





	Pieces of You

**Author's Note:**

> EnKlave Fest 2021
> 
> Prompt: Klaus seeing things that remind him of Dave in the 60s during Season 2.
> 
> Klaus said that the cowboy shirt was his favorite shirt and we have feelings about that.
> 
> Please enjoy!

**September 1, 1960**

He is walking down a quiet street in Dallas when he sees it. There is nothing really eye-catching about it. The colours are subtle and there are no unusual patterns like the clothing Klaus usually goes for; but the way it almost glows when the sunlight hits the display window gets his attention. There is something about the shirt that makes him halt in his steps to take a good look at it. It’s resting on a mannequin displaying white embroidered, double sided arrows under the yellow fabric on the shoulders. Klaus actually would have never been caught dead wearing it, but Dave would have. 

It’s a cowboy shirt.

His feet lead him into the small shop and straight to the shirt, feeling an irresistible pull to just touch it. He zones out the rest of the store, all he can see is the shirt. Everything else just falls away as he focuses on that one piece of clothing, as if there is nothing more important in the world. And in a way that is true. 

He gently touches the bluish-gray fabric with shaking hands, trying to carefully take it off of the mannequin. He can hear the store owner huffing irritably as he struggles with the task, but he pays him no mind. His thoughts are quickly straying to a time less than a year ago, to something that technically wouldn’t happen for another eight years.

**January 15, 1968**

They are sitting perched on top of a truck, smoking, like they always do after a long day of trekking through the jungle. It’s a dark night and if it wasn’t for the stars and the gentle glow of their cigarettes, Klaus would not have been able to see the other vehicles that are surrounding them. He cannot see or hear the other soldiers either which gives them a sense of privacy, a luxury that is hard to find on the front lines. The cicadas are loud, almost drowning out the distant sound of bombs and gunfire completely. Klaus can almost convince himself that he and Dave were sitting atop their own truck by their own home, far away from the war. He brings his cigarette to his lips and takes a long drag, feeling the burn of it in his throat.

“My tour is almost over,” Dave says suddenly, breaking the silence. As if Klaus could ever forget that, as if it is not the only thing on his mind. He looks at Klaus with bright eyes and a teasing smile. “And I have been thinking about how we are going to have to buy you an entire wardrobe when we get home.”

Klaus throws his head back, laughing, “Really? That’s what you’ve been thinking about? Of all the challenges of taking your time traveling boyfriend home with you, that is the thing you’ve been worrying about?” 

Klaus leans back on the bed of the truck and looks up at the stars, basking in the warm glow of home. _Home_. The one thing Klaus was so certain he would never have. Yet it somehow managed to sneak up at him at the most unexpected time, in the most unexpected place, with the most unexpected person. Good things don't happen to people like him. But maybe, _maybe_ , the universe has finally taken pity on him and given him Dave. Strong, vulnerable, and beautiful Dave. The love of his life. He really couldn’t wait to get out of this shit hole and start the life he was meant to have with Dave, back in the states, back _home_.

Dave rolls his eyes fondly, elbowing Klaus in the side. “Obviously not,” he huffs out, “But you can't walk around in your fatigues in San Francisco.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you.” Klaus takes another drag from his cigarette. He then turns to Dave, grinning, “I will adopt the whole hippie look, long beard and everything.”

“No, absolutely not.” Dave is smiling, looking happy and hopeful. Klaus gets it, he also can't wait to complain about something as inane as beard burns and awful khakis.

“Oh, not a fan of the hippie look? Well, what should I be wearing then? It is the 60’s after all,” Klaus nudges him with his foot, playfully. Dave turns to look at him, eyes crinkling and mischievous.

“What about a cowboy getup?”

Klaus gasps dramatically, sitting up fast. 

“No, I would never wear something so tacky!”

"What, come on, I think it would suit you," Dave flashes him some puppy dog eyes, he knows that Klaus is weak for them, and under any other circumstances that he wouldn't have been able to resist them. However, as much as he loves Dave, he was definitely not Klaus’s first choice to go to for fashion advice. His suggestion of a cowboy look just proved that point, and Klaus would rather die than be seen in a cowboy hat. 

“No, not even for that. I have taste,” Klaus punches him lightly on the shoulder, “Unlike some people.” 

It's Dave's turn to look offended. “I have taste!,” Klaus opens his mouth to protest, “I do!” 

“No you don’t. You wore khakis to a disco, Dave. That is not good taste.”

“Don't khaki shame me! Besides, you like them well enough when I wear them.” Dave gives him a wink and takes a long drag of his cigarette.

“You are lucky your ass looks nice in khakis. Otherwise I would have gone for Chaz instead that night in Saigon. At least he knows what jeans to wear.”

“Too bad he is flatter than you.” Dave points at himself, looking all too pleased with himself, “You would never downgrade from this.” “Hey!” Klaus sits up with an offended gasp, throwing his burnt down cigarette to the side just before jabbing Dave in his side. It does nothing but make Dave laugh, happy tears falling from his eyes.

“It's not funny!” Klaus pushes him playfully on his back, meeting no resistance. Dave is still giggling, bringing the heel of his palm to his right eye, rubbing away the tears. The cigarette is still hanging from Dave’s fingers, burning down slowly. It is close to Dave's lovely curls, so Klaus reaches out to take it from his hand, swinging his leg over his hips. 

“It is a little funny,” Dave breathes out, hands going to Klaus's hips as he settles in his lap. One hand sneaks around his hips and downwards, giving him a little squeeze.

“You love my flat ass.” Klaus strokes away the tear from his other eye, then slowly trailing it down his cheekbone until he reaches his jaw.

“I do,” Dave says and Klaus gently grips his jaw, tilting his chin up.

“And this ass will never get into a pair of khakis, or a tacky cowboy shirt. Never.” Klaus tips his head back, takes a long drag off the stolen cigarette and leans down for a gentle kiss, sharing the smoke with Dave's warm and welcoming mouth.

**September 1, 1960**

A loud and pointed cough violently rips Klaus from the soft and comforting memory. He flinches and balls up the shirt in his shaky hands, as if he can hold on to the memory of Dave a little while longer. He doesn’t turn around yet, just stares intently at the shirt, hoping the owner will take the hint and leave him alone. 

“Hey! If you ain’t gonna buy it, you gotta leave. People like you don't belong here.”

Klaus can feel the anger swelling somewhere deep in his stomach, crawling up his chest and to his throat. He wants to scream at the owner for daring to interrupt the memory, for forcefully ripping him away from the sticky heat of the jungle and the comforting smell of tobacco. He just wants five more minutes, to just bask in the few precious memories he has left of Dave. To bask in the warm feeling of _home_. He has never belonged anywhere, not in the Hargreeves mansion and certainly not in Dallas. But somehow, in between all of the death and all of the other horrors of war, he found Dave. He found _home_. And Klaus is getting sick and tired of constantly having it ripped away from him.

Just like in the veteran bar he feels the urge to fight, to let the anger out on someone. He wants to punch and claw and bite because his future, his only chance at happiness, is gone. There is no one to blame, no one he can fight to get it back. It was just a pointless war that took his beautiful man away for nothing. And just as easy as that intense anger came, it went away. It fades until all that's left is the all-encompassing grief that took root in his core the day that Dave stopped breathing.

Dave, or at least now the memories of him, has a way of leaving him open and vulnerable. Since his time with Dave he's found it harder and harder to put on different guises, so he fakes what he hopes to be a passable mask of confidence. Klaus removes the sunglasses from where they are hanging from the neck of his orange and blue striped shirt and puts them on, hoping it will hide his teary eyes. To make up for the slight tremor that has taken over his body, he adds more sway to his hips while walking to the counter. He might also be trying to piss the man off, making sure he looks even more out of place.

The owner, an older man with an impressive beard, takes him in while Klaus carefully lays the shirt down on the counter, trying to be as gentle as he can with it. If it had been any other piece of clothing he might have just thrown it down, but this shirt is special. He hesitantly removes his hand from the shirt, keeping his eyes on the owner in case he decides to take it away from Klaus. Klaus flashes him a tight-lipped smile as he brings his hand to his pocket and gets his wallet.

“How much?” He says cheerily while counting his bills, though his body is tense and ready to run or fight at any moment. 

“Five dollars,” he grunts, holding his hand out.

Klaus considers just laying the bills on the counter and leaving the store quietly, but he is restless and the anger and hurt simmers too close to the surface. Instead he slams the bill into the owner's hand, so hard that the back of his hand makes contact with the counter; causing the crunching sound of knuckles meeting wood. The man shouts and brings his other hand to cradle the damaged one to his chest. Before the man can recover from the pain, Klaus snatches the shirt from the counter, and runs out of the store. He can hear the deep, irate voice shouting after him, but he doesn't turn. He just runs and runs and runs until his lungs burn as much as his eyes and his feet give out beneath him. 

He collapses against the nearest wall, letting his back drag against the warm surface as he slides down to sit on the sidewalk. The buildings in front of him are blurry, impossible to see through his tears, and he can't hear anything except for his own laboured breathing. He brings his knees up, laying his arms over them so that he can rest his forehead and hide his face in the space between his legs and torso. The shirt hangs loosely from his hand as he waits for his breathing to even out, for his tears to dry.

Klaus is not sure how long he sits there, but when he finally lifts his head he sees that the sky is darker than when he entered the store. He uses the hand clutching his wallet to push himself off the ground, before putting the wallet back into his pocket. He stretches out his stiff legs and aching shoulders while he looks around, trying to figure out where he has run to. He quickly recognises a burlesque club that he always drives past on the way into Dallas. Klaus sighs in relief, glad to know that he is not too far away from the mansion. At least he got something out of his years on the street, though ideally it would be something more exciting than just being able to always run in the right direction no matter how fucked up he is.

He doesn't bother trying to find a bus, he just takes one more stretch before he starts walking. Every step feels heavy and he can feel all the muscles in his body protest; but he has trekked through far worse terrains and with something much heavier in his grip than a single shirt. It seems like ages before he is quietly opening the entrance door, sneaking his way past the living room that is currently occupied by Kitty and a few of her friends. Klaus does not want to risk them seeing him, he doesn’t have the strength to entertain them right now. He just wants to be alone. Somehow, Klaus manages to get back to his room without being detected and he carefully locks the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bed, stepping over discarded clothes and books, and sits down with the shirt in hand.

Klaus stares down at it. For a second he’s almost shocked by his reaction to a piece of clothing. In the next moment he’s bringing the shirt up to his face, taking a deep inhale. His mind replaces the artificial smell from the clothing store with the smell of cigarettes and a heady, earthy scent that had always clung to Dave. Behind closed eyes he imagines, for just a second, that he’s hidden away somewhere with Dave; tucked against him and breathing him in like he always used to do. Without opening his eyes he uses shaky fingers to unbutton the shirt. He fits his arms into the sleeves and wraps the shirt around himself like a blanket as he curls into a ball. Just desperate enough to pretend that the shirt wrapped around him is Dave holding him in his arms, he drifts off. 

**February 21, 1961**

Klaus knew he would break eventually. It was inevitable, he has never stayed sober for more than a few days. He’s honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did, he had seen it coming from a mile away. Today is the day Dave will die, and all Klaus can think about is his bloody chest and his lifeless eyes that won’t meet Klaus's no matter how much he begs him to just please, God please, just look at him. He isn't strong enough to even think about it, so instead he puts on the shirt, both as a comfort and a punishment. Now adorned with the western-style garment, he gets ready to break his one-year streak by pawning some of Kitty's valuable possessions.

His heart races as he goes through the endless amount of rooms in the mansion. So far he has found boxes of tacky knick knacks and drawers filled with different powders and lotions. The rooms are mostly empty but he’s hoping to find some hidden jewelry or maybe a fur coat, he would make out well with something like that. Kitty has those things and more in her bedroom's large walk-in closet but she is so meticulous about the things in her room, to the point where Klaus is pretty sure that she takes inventory, and would immediately notice if he takes one of her valuables from there. He does know for a fact however that she never goes into any of the other rooms in her house, the same way she never talks with Klaus about her dead husband or about anything else from her past.

He was about to give up and just clear out the silverware from downstairs when he goes to open the door of the room located directly next to Kitty’s bedroom, finding it locked. He can’t help but to let out a triumphant snicker, this is definitely where all the good shit is. Klaus runs to Kitty’s vanity and swipes a couple of hair pins to jimmy open the lock with. He forgot for a moment about the heavy weight sitting in his stomach or the tightness in his chest until he has to pick a lock with shaking hands. It takes him way longer than it typically would but he finally enters the room.

He goes towards what looks to be a closet door and then jumps up and down, hands clapping with glee at the designer men’s suits hung up in the closet. He pulls them down and then notices neat stacks of shoe boxes sitting at the floor of the closet. If there is any Prada or Chanel he would be set for more than a night. He figures if he’s going to tarnish a year of sobriety, he might as well do it with a bang. He drops to his knees, and grabs a long rectangular box off the top. He takes the cover off, excited to see what fabulous pair of shoes are going to be funding his drug habit. Instead he looks down to see a pair of beat up cowboy boots.

His face scrunches up, this was not something he would expect to find in Kitty’s home. And then all of a sudden, feels his breath get taken away as he continues to stare down at the shoes. 

Klaus picks up one shoe, turning it around to get a good look. He can feel the weight of it in his hands and the way the shaft bends in the middle, a clear sign of an old and well worn pair of boots. The dark brown leather is damaged, making it seem lighter in color in some places. Klaus drags his fingers over the thinned spots, feeling the shift from smooth to coarse leather. The black heel is littered with indents and there is dirt in the horizontal pattern on the bottom of the shoe.

Klaus looks down at himself, at the cowboy shirt and the boots in his hands, and then he slides his gaze over to Kitty's tall, full body mirror. He strokes the boots again, watching himself in his reflection. He looks like a mess, his long unkempt hair falling over his shoulders and sticking to his sweaty face. He looks a little manic from his frenzied search for pawnable objects. He still feels the frantic restlessness and the craving, but it is subdued. It is as if the need has taken a back seat to the soft feeling of leather. 

He used to do that in Vietnam, rub the leather of the combat boots when the ghosts were particularly bad and the drugs hadn't kicked in yet. Sometimes Dave would take him to the vehicle yard to hold him through it or to distract him with a pack of cigarettes. Dave was good like that. Klaus takes a shaky breath and rubs his thumb over the toe of the boot, letting the feeling of the leather take him back to Dave's calm voice and grounding presence.

**February 19, 1968**

“Is it one of those kinds of nights?”

Klaus startles, almost jumping out of his seat as Dave walks up to him. He had been so focused on rubbing the toe of one of Dave's combat boots, getting so lost in the feeling of smooth leather that everything else had just faded away. It was a calming ritual that Dave had shown him during his first month in Vietnam. Klaus had been sitting on his cot, surrounded by screaming ghosts, when Dave walked in on him clawing at his arms trying to distract himself. Dave had not hesitated, he had just taken one look at Klaus’s pitiful state and had quickly found one of his spare combat boots. He had taken a seat next to Klaus, gently prying Klaus's fingers from his arms and put the boot in his hand. Dave explained to him how rubbing the boot and channeling all of his pain and anxiety into the feeling of the leather has been Dave’s way of calming himself down after a brutal mission. It worked surprisingly well, and after that night Klaus picked up the habit himself.

Dave pats Klaus on the back as he sits down next to him, hard enough for it to seem like a brotherly greeting, though his hand does linger for a moment too long. Dave is sitting further away than what Klaus would have liked, but it can’t be helped. They are sitting on a bench facing one of the makeshift tables in a quiet corner of the camp, but there are still enough soldiers mulling around for them to be any closer without risking them being caught.

Dave has a sad smile on his lips as he looks down at the boot in Klaus's lap, one of Dave's spare ones, knowing fully what it says about his mental state right now. Dave never complains about Klaus taking his shoes without asking though. Especially since Klaus doesn't have more than the pair he’s got on his feet, and he doesn't want to take one of the dead guy's boots. Their ghosts would just give him shit for it and Klaus doesn't need to give them another reason to bother him. 

The ghosts are really acting up tonight, as they have been doing a lot recently, but Klaus supposes it is to be expected. He’s on the frontlines after all, more and more of their soldiers are dying each day. He has already used up most of his stash of drugs and the single pill of God knows what either hasn't kicked in yet, or it is just too weak for his tolerance. Either way, he is feeling like shit and all he wants to do is crawl into Dave's lap and fall asleep with his face pressed against the other man's neck. However, Dave's regretful eyes tell him that there will be no sneaking away for that much needed alone time, no matter how much they both crave it.

“Yeah,” Klaus says, letting his finger trace the outline of the boot, looking at Dave from the corner of his eye.

“I only got ten minutes before duty calls,” Dave says quietly, reaching for his pocket to take out a packet of cigarettes, “But I can meet up with you later at our spot, if you'd like?”

Dave hands him a cigarette and Klaus takes it, savouring the feeling of Dave’s fingers against his own, thankful for any small amount of contact. He puts it in his mouth and leans forward, silently waiting for Dave to light it for him. Dave cups his hand around the cigarette to shield it from the wind and lights it with the other, keeping his eyes trained on Klaus throughout the entire exchange. Dave’s eyes are so open, so full of tenderness and love. And Klaus can't help the way his heart jumps in his chest at the intensity of Dave's gaze and at the intimacy of the moment. Dave is not the first person to light a cigarette for him, and he had gotten way more heated looks while it had happened. But no one has ever looked at Klaus the way that Dave does, like he is the only thing in the world that matters.

There is only so much that Klaus can handle on top of his little breakdown so he looks away quickly, not before giving Dave a lewd wink that makes Dave's cheeks heat up however. Klaus can't help the fondness swelling in his chest at Dave’s adorable expression, it’s doing a good job at washing away the panic he had felt moments ago. The drugs and the boot might help calm him down but there is truly no better high than watching Dave happy and desperately trying, but failing, to keep a smile off his face.

He leans back and takes a long drag as he watches Dave. The other man is swiftly lighting his own cigarette, one hand on the lighter and the other one curled around the stick. The flame lights up his face for a second, making shadows dance across his strong jawline and high cheekbones; Klaus’s hand twitches, wanting to just reach out and touch. Klaus settles for shifting his body towards his instead, letting his foot bump into Dave’s under the table. Dave tenses for a second and straightens his back. He takes a quick look around, making sure there are not any soldiers too close to them. Klaus notices that there is only a small group a few meters away, but their position wouldn't allow them to sneak a peek under the table. It takes Dave a moment longer to deem it safe enough to shift his body towards Klaus as well. He moves his foot so it is resting against Klaus’s as he puts the lighter back in his pocket and leans his elbow on the table.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Oh it’s nothing exciting, just the same shit as always,” Klaus says, bumping Dave’s foot as he smiles bitterly. He can't really get into it, not with a measly ten minutes. But, maybe he will later when Dave is there to hold him through it. He takes an inhale of his cigarette, groaning in relief at the burn hitting his throat. 

Dave takes one too as he looks back at Klaus. He’s probably evaluating if he should ditch his duties and sneak away with Klaus instead, though a few months ago Dave would have never considered it. The more time they spend together, the more confident and relaxed he sees Dave becoming. Klaus has never had a good influence on anyone, but Vietnam has shown him that there is a first time for everything. Dave takes one final look around before putting his hand on the bench next to him and moving it towards Klaus, a clear invitation. Dave doesn't offer much physical contact when the sun is still up so Klaus doesn't waste the opportunity to move his own next to Dave, their fingertips touching.

“It's gonna get better, Sunshine,” Dave whispers, moving his hand even closer, so that the top of his fingers are resting over Klaus's, “I know it will. You just need to hold on a little while longer.”

Klaus scoffs, shaking his head, “How will it get better? This place is hell.”

“We won't be here for much longer, I promise you. We will go home and it will get better,” Dave's fingers start to move, gently stroking Klaus’s fingers in a familiar rhythm.

“People won't stop dying Dave, here or anywhere.”

“No, but this is a war. Back home there won't be as many deaths.” Klaus watches as Dave’s lips purse around his cigarette and the way his cheeks hollow out makes Klaus’s chest feel tight and his heart skip a beat. 

Klaus thinks about it for a moment and he supposes it is true. He remembers enough from his history lessons to know that the death toll can’t get any worse than this. That doesn't mean people won't stop dying anytime soon and as far as Klaus is concerned one ghost is already one too many.

“A lot of people die every day, everywhere.”

“We could move to a small town. It would be quiet there, easier to handle the ghosts.”

Klaus lets it sink in while Dave's fingers caresses his hand, feeling the tension slowly bleed out of his body. He does have a point, a sleepy town would have a lot less ghosts than A Shau Valley. They would probably be less aggressive too, since most of them didn't die horribly in a pointless war. If he was making it through for the most part here, he could be more than okay in a place like the one Dave described.

“That sounds boring, there wouldn't be anything to do there,” Klaus huffs out, with a small smile tugging at his lips.

He closes his eyes and lets himself imagine it. A small house that is just enough for the two of them; where the fireplace is always burning, spreading warmth to every corner. It would be messy, just like Klaus, and no amount of effort on Dave’s part would keep it organised. They would have mismatched and well used furniture that they would get from Dave’s grandparents and thrift shops. The smell of tobacco and Dave's homemade challah would seep into the wood of the house, becoming the scent of their home. Their tiny house would be far enough away so that no one could disturb their well-earned peace. It would be overflowing with love and joy, everything the Hargreeves mansion wasn't. 

“Nothing could ever be boring with you,” Dave says softly.

Klaus opens his eyes again, noticing Dave’s tender and open expression. He can't help the grin taking over his burning face, making his muscles ache and his stomach nearly burst with happiness.

“You are a big sap, you know that right?” 

Dave lights up, and Klaus can't help but wonder what he ever did to deserve this wonderful man.

“You love it,” he says proudly, moving his hand to rest completely over Klaus’s.

And Klaus does, he really does love this sweet, romantic, sappy man. Every day with him turns Klaus softer and softer, despite all of his desperate attempts at making himself invulnerable. But he doesn't mind, he likes the person he is with Dave. And he thinks that just maybe he could grow into that person properly one day outside of the war, in a quiet place with no ghosts. 

“I do,” Klaus whispers, turns his palm upwards, and intertwines their fingers. He holds onto Dave’s hand tight, letting himself believe that they will get out of there, together. That maybe he can finally have the life he never knew he wanted.

**February 21, 1961**

He comes back to himself slowly, as if he is waking up from one of the few good nights he had in Dave's arms. His cheeks are wet, his throat is closed up, and his chest aches with longing and shame. He grips the boot tighter and shuts his burning eyes. “I love you,” Klaus sobs, moving one hand to cover his mouth as he tries to hold in the scream that is fighting to be let out, “And I am so sorry. Christ, I am so sorry Dave.”

He has so much to be sorry for, so many regrets, that he can hardly keep them all straight in his head anymore. The only good thing Klaus ever did in his life was loving Dave, and he didn't regret a single second of it, no matter how painful the ending was. He would do it all again in a heartbeat. Those ten months showed him who he could be, if he only tried a little harder. He never wants to go back to the person he used to be, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to.

He swore when he came to 1963 that he would stay sober, and today he almost ruined that. Klaus has never been able to save anyone or anything, but he only has one shot at saving Dave’s life and he has to succeed. If that means that he will never have Dave again, that he will never feel that love again, it would be more than worth it. Dave deserved so much better, he deserved everything in the world, and there is nothing Klaus wouldn't sacrifice to make sure he gets it. Dave’s life could not end on a cold jungle floor, choking on his own blood; desperately trying to hold onto Klaus while his life slowly trickles away between Klaus's fingers.

Klaus can't risk being high or in withdrawal when he finally sees him, alive and breathing with no bullet wound in his chest. He knows it will be so goddamn hard to not take Dave into his arms and hold on as tight as he possibly can. If he wants to be able to have a conversation with Dave, to convince him to not sign up, he needs to be the best possible version of himself. The man Dave helped him see a glimpse of in the jungle, in the middle of a gruesome war. It's not going well at the moment, but he still has two years and nine months to get there. Dave, the Dave he knew at least, had such unwavering faith in him and Klaus can't help but to believe that maybe Dave was right. How else would he ever be worthy of Dave’s love if there wasn’t something in him that wasn’t a total fuck up? 

Klaus flops down onto the floor, legs outstretched in front of him, and puts the boots on. It takes much longer than usual, his fingers won’t stop trembling and he can hardly see past his watery eyes. When he finally gets them on and lifts his body off the floor, he turns to the mirror and looks at himself in the boots and the shirt. Besides his blotchy face and messy hair, he looks good. Klaus can see the appeal of the cowboy getup, why Dave loves it so much. Klaus likes it too. He almost looks like the man he wants to be. The only thing missing is a cowboy hat, that would make the whole thing come together.

“You would have loved seeing me wear this, baby,” he breathes out, unable to turn away from his image in the mirror.

Klaus will never get the life he wanted with Dave. There will never be a little house with a fireplace, in a quiet town far away from other people. He will never have a home with Dave. He will never see the goofy smile that he just knows would appear on Dave's face if he saw Klaus wearing this shirt or those boots.

But, Dave was going to live and that would be enough. It had to be. 

**November 23, 1963**

Klaus is sitting on the floor with his back against the sofa in Sissy`s house, surrounded by broken glass and shot up furniture. The air is still freezing, having not yet gone back to normal from Harlan's weird weather controlling powers. No one has figured out what exactly his abilities were yet, but it's not like he would know even if they did. They don't tell him anything.

Klaus hugs himself, trying to keep himself warm in the cold. His siblings are out, finishing up their business in Dallas. Luther and Allison are dropping off a letter to Ray, and Vanya is talking to Sissy in a room down the hall. Meanwhile Diego and Five are somewhere outside doing God knows what, probably arguing about the Commission. With nothing else to do while his sisters say goodbye to their loves, he sits there desperately wishing that he could just steal Sissy’s car and go to Dave. Klaus knows he can't stay in 1963, Five would never let him. He would knock Klaus unconscious if he tried to stay, and the next time he opened his eyes he would find himself back in 2019. 

Even if he did somehow manage to get to Dave without Five noticing, it's not like Dave would want anything to with him anyway. _This_ Dave only sees him as cult leader, a crazy peacenik who tried to stop him from doing the right thing. He didn’t feel anything when he saw Klaus’s stupid cowboy outfit at the mansion, his one last ditch effort to be vulnerable and to appeal to some part of Dave that he knows doesn’t exist yet. _This Dave_ doesn’t want a small house far away from a sleepy town, somewhere quiet where he could love Klaus without being afraid for his life. _This_ Dave still thinks he wants a white picket fence with a wife and two point five kids.

He doesn't have a lover that he can say goodbye to, his soldier doesn't exist yet. So instead he sits on the floor with ice cold metal between his fingertips, his eyes locked on the only thing he has left of Dave; desperately trying to hold on to and find comfort in the precious memories of their love. He closes his eyes and brings the tags to his mouth, gently kissing them as he goes back to the sticky heat of the jungle and Dave's big hands on his waist. The metal is cold, burning against his lips and he can almost convince himself that it's the heat from the smoke they shared between their mouths. 

He keeps the tags there, letting the subtle taste of metal cocoon him into the precious memory, before his lips warms the metal and their smoky kiss fades from his mind. Klaus stares at them and feels his eyes burning, a sad smile starting to tug at his lips. He might not have been able to save Dave, but at least his ghost will be there when he gets back to 2019, the memories of their love intact. It is not what he truly wants, but as usual, it has to be enough. 

He doesn't know how long he sits there, lost in memories, but when his siblings come back and tell him that it's time to leave, his arms are stiff and hurting. They go into the dining room where Five is checking the briefcase for the right coordinates while they all wait anxiously around him, fidgeting in silence and sharing worried looks. No one there has had a successful experience with time travel before, and Klaus can empathize. He can't take his eyes off of the briefcase either, it is unnervingly similar to the one that took him to Vietnam. He almost can't believe that such a little thing had the power to change his life, to give him somebody as magnificent as Dave and then to rip him away from Klaus so violently. Now it is happening again, maybe with a different version of Dave, but to Klaus, it feels almost as painful as the first time he was taken away from Dave.

Klaus can't quite push away the nagging in the back of his head that reminds him of how wrong it is to leave 1963, a time where Dave is still alive. For all he knows _his_ Dave might be waiting for him back home, lonely and missing him after fifty years apart. At least that's what he tells himself, despite the sinking feeling in stomach that can't seem to go away no matter how much Klaus imagines their happy reunion. He doesn't know how he will cope if Dave isn't there waiting for him, but he hopes he doesn't have to find out. 

When Five finally gives them the signal to go, they walk through the front door and gather around in a circle while Five takes one last look at the briefcase. They all cast anxious glances back at Sissy’s house, hoping they haven't left anything important behind. Klaus can't help but think about his shirt, boots, and army vest. His little collection of Dave, tucked in a closet, hidden away from the rest of the world. Klaus's chest aches knowing that he will never see them again. Either Destiny's Children will take them or they will be removed from the mansion when someone new moves in there, when it becomes apparent that Klaus is not going to return. He will go back to see for himself when gets to 2019 of course, but he knows there is no point in keeping his hopes up. Those pieces he has of Dave will be gone for good and all he will have left is the dog tags. 

Everytime Klaus time travels, he leaves more and more of Dave behind. And if his record tracks he will lose the tags too, truly leaving him with nothing else of Dave but the ink on his skin. Though, that is not certain either he thinks as he shoots a glance at Five and his thirteen year old body. Not even his own skin is guaranteed to bear Dave's name. If he loses the tattoos as well, then all he will have left is his memories, which have already begun to grow dull around the edges. The dread keeps growing and it is all he can think about, how he will come back to a timeline without Dave and lose everything that Klaus has of him, how he will be truly alone. Thats why, when his eyes catch onto the cowboy hat hanging off the railing of the porch, he can't help himself.

“Wait!”

His brothers and sisters all look at him expectantly, but Klaus can't explain the uncontrollable urge that has come over him. Instead he gives them a look, pleading for them to wait for him, before he runs over to the porch and gets the hat. Klaus turns around while quickly putting it on, not daring to waste any time in case he would somehow lose the hat too, just as quickly as he claimed it. He runs back to his place and adjusts the hat, happy to find that it is just his size. Klaus nods approvingly and offers his hand to Vanya, who takes it with a smile. They all come closer together, while Five holds the briefcase in the middle of their circle. He then slowly opens it and Klaus eyes shut as blue light erupts from the briefcase. He takes a deep breath, willing the dread building in his center to go away. 

He is going back to 2019, a time where Dave’s ghost will hopefully be waiting for him. He will use his new found powers to make him corporeal, and then Klaus will hold onto him and never let him go. He can't wait to see Dave's delight at his cowboy hat. He will smile that big handsome smile of his and tease Klaus relentlessly, and he will gladly take it. He thinks Dave will look good in the hat too. They can share it, like they will share the rest of Klaus's life before he finally joins Dave in his ghostly world. It might not be what they dreamed of when they were chain smoking under the stars, but Klaus can settle for that. As long as Dave is with him he can be happy.

**April 2, 2019**

“Shit.”

Shit. The hope he was stupid enough to work up comes crashing down and mocks him as he watches the scene playing out before him.

Ben is alive.

His father is alive.

He doesn’t know what this means for him or for his family, for the world he knew. But more importantly, what does this mean for Dave?

God, Dave. His knees almost buckle because deep down he does know what it means for Dave. Once again the Umbrella Academy had fucked things up. Which means, as always, Klaus had fucked things up. He knows that whatever interactions he had with Dave in 1963, whatever he did to try to save him, somehow created a worse fate for the man he loved. The one thing Klaus knows for sure is that there is no way he is ever going to be able see Dave again. 

Klaus reaches up to pull off the cowboy hat, placing it over his heart. He looks down at the hat, biting his lips to keep from crying. He does as Dave taught him, and subtly strokes the brim of the hat to calm himself down, as his world collapses around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! We would love to hear any feedback you might have!


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